


robot.

by ninespercentage (nicrt)



Category: Nine Percent, 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV), 百分九少年 | Nine Percent
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 05:27:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13920345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicrt/pseuds/ninespercentage
Summary: xukun's tired.





	robot.

**Author's Note:**

> [robot by the sam willows](https://youtu.be/EchEeOy5F3U)

The numbers dwindle - too fast and too soon. The rooms become a little more emptier, the dorms a little less louder. A hundred turns to sixty-five, sixty-five turns into thirty-five. Soon it'll drop to nine.  _The_ final nine.

The prospect is both saddening and exciting, and it's making Xukun's stomach twist. In the bad way, because there's that nervous feeling that mixes together with nausea and lethargy. He thinks he's going to get heartburn again, he's already lost count of how many times he's had to swallow bile back down. Xukun's got no time to take care of himself that way, not when everything is on the line.

Numbers flashes across his mind; the votes he gets from his live stages, the results he receives from the audience, the millions coloured in bright gold appearing on the monitor, and the large number one that glares behind him whenever he takes a seat at the top of the pyramid. He thinks about his precarious position, how he's supposedly the king of this competition at the moment but he can barely conquer the stage.

The stage. Hasn't he been doing enough? Maybe not, considering how his scores for each stage has been. He has to push harder then. This time, maybe one more hour could be enough. Or two. Three? He's calculating his schedules, how he has to rearrange his current timetable into something that'll let him practice more, work harder, do better.

His head is throbbing; he realises he's been frowning, feels his brow furrowed so tightly that it feels weird to let it relax. His eyes are closed. When did they close? He should open them, or else he'll fall asleep, and then he wouldn't have enough time. But his eyes stay closed; it feels too comfortable to open them, suppressing the migrane he's been constantly having. There's a pain behind his eyes too, as if he's been watching the television for too long. God... he wants sleep so badly.

A loud thud forces him to open them though, makes him look for the source of the offending sound. Oh. Ziyi is smiling at him, having taken the space beside him and sitting next to him. It's that small smile he has, the comforting one he gives to his younger brothers whenever they're stumped during practice. Only this one causes more wrinkles around his eyes, and those eyes are shining with something so bright that it makes Xukun melt a little on the inside.

"Hey," Ziyi greets him. He nods at the wall in front of them. "What are you doing here?"

Here being the small hallway that's levelled with the Wall. The Wall being the one wall where they put up the current top rankings. The top rankings with the top nines' profile pictures hanging on the Wall.

Xukun looks away, eyes settling on the photo labelled number one: his photo.

"Thinking," he finally answers. Ziyi hums, and doesn't press. Doesn't need to.

"Am I... how...?" Xukun racks his brain for the right words, pushing past the headache. Ziyi is patient still. He settles on the lame question. "Should I go practice some more?"

_Do I deserve that number one spot?_ , is the unspoken question. The forbidden one, the one that reminds each and every one of them that this wasn't some trainee camp where they make friends and go home sated and satisfied. 

Ziyi tilts his head, looks at Xukun; Xukun turns to face him again. He notes the little bumps and hairs on Ziyi's face, even though he already recognises every pore on the other's face. He watches Ziyi, the same way Ziyi watches him. Trailing from the eyes to eyelashes to nose to lips to chin and back to lips. Ziyi's pulls into a smirk, the non-condescending kind.

"If you wanna." Ziyi answers. "I'll stay with you if you'd like."

Xukun takes in his answer, processes it. The tension in his abdomen is lessening. He looks away again. "I'm tired though."

"Do you wanna rest then?"

Xukun stares at the photo looking down at them. Sees Ziyi's somewhere near the bottom of the pyramid. The tension loosens some more. "Yeah, I do."

"Wanna head to the dorms?" Xukun shakes his head. "Practice rooms?" Another head shake. "Wanna stay here then?"

Xukun goes back to looking at Ziyi. Ziyi is still smiling, softly and gently. The tension is practically gone then. He nods.

"Okay then. Want me to stay?"

It's a question that doesn't need answers though. Xukun's head drops onto Ziyi's shoulder, his arm twines around Ziyi's and his hand laces his fingers with Ziyi's. He feels a weight on top of his head, Xukun's hair cushioning Ziyi's cheek. He closes his eyes, darkens the memory of rankings and stages in his mind, focuses on the deep breathing he hears from Ziyi. His headache's still there but the soft pressure from Ziyi is soothing, grounding. His mind clouds and the headache recedes further.

And with a content sigh, Xukun falls asleep.


End file.
